


Audacious

by editingatwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gender Identity, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Kent wears lipstick on his days off. Tater wasn't supposed to know.





	

Kent’s just finished putting a coat of gloss over his lipstick when Tater sticks his head in the bathroom with a grin and a booming, “Surprise!”

“Shit!” Kent yelps, and the lip gloss cap goes flying. He quickly turns away to wipe furiously at his mouth with his sleeve. Fuck, fuck, _shit._ Already he’s feeling hot and a little bit sick. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

He can’t see it but can hear the grin falling from Tater’s face. “I’m come early,” he says. “Want surprise you.” There’s a very awkward pause. “Is that—”

“Just fuck off!” It’s harsh and desperate and it’s not what Kent wants to say, but he’s too scared to think straight.

Another pause that makes Kent’s insides twist. Then, “Okay,” followed by footsteps headed back down the hall.

Kent drops his sleeve from his mouth. Smears of red and gold mar the black fabric of his favorite Aces sweatshirt. “Shit,” he breathes again, and grabs a tissue off the sink to finish wiping the color off his mouth. He has the worst luck of anyone he knows. He’s been dating Alexei Mashkov for a _month_. This dirty secret wasn’t ever supposed to see daylight.

Later, once he’s cleaned himself up _thoroughly_ and changed his clothes, he goes out into the living room. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done.

Tater is sitting on the sofa. The TV is on and the remote is in his hand. Kent can’t tell if he’s actually watching what’s on. When Kent comes in and slumps into an armchair nearby, Tater puts the remote aside and looks over at him.

Kent gets the feeling that he’s expected to speak first and he hates it. He doesn’t know what Tater’s thinking so he doesn’t know what to say.

So he does the only thing he can think of: he lies. He dredges up a rueful smile from _somewhere_ and says, “I thought I’d go in drag this Halloween. I’ve got all the makeup shit for it but I don’t know what to do with it, you know? Blush and mascara and eyeliner and shit. I gotta practice before I go out in public in it.” He keeps the smile on. He doesn’t crack. If he cracks, Tater will know, and this will stop being a joke—Kent Parson in makeup, what a gag!—and turn into the next headline.

Tater’s silence is killing him. At last, at _long_ last, the man nods solemnly. “Snowy is wear eyeliner, for games.”

Kent’s baffled. “Your goalie?”

“Falcs goalie, yes. He is wear eyeliner for every game. Is superstition, he says, make him look intimidating.” Tater shrugs. “Sometimes he wear when not in game, though. I think he like it.”

That information hangs in the air between them, like Kent’s supposed to know what to do with it. He doesn’t. “It’s not for a game. It’s for a costume. That’s it.” His heart is beating so fast that it hurts.

Tater shrugs again, the gesture stiff. It’s the only real indication Kent has that Tater feels as out of his depth here as Kent does. Tater looks him in the face and says, “Color was nice. I’m not see…much…but I think color was nice.”

“Yeah? Great. It’ll work with the dress, then.” Keep smiling, keep joking. It’s _funny_. It has to be funny, or else it’s a crime.

Tater returns the smile a little but he doesn’t look like he’s joking. “Can I try?”

It takes a very long moment for Kent to understand. “Try the— _Why_?”

“Color was nice. Maybe I’m like, wear for Halloween, too.” Tater is smiling more, his voice painfully kind, and Kent can’t stand being chirped like this.

“Fine,” he spits. “It’s not for Halloween, it’s for me. I wear makeup like a goddamn chick, get myself all pretty and wear it around when I’m by myself because I _like_ it. Is that what you want to hear?”

Tater looks stricken. “I’m not make fun of you,” he says quietly. “Maybe I say badly, but it’s okay. If is something you like, makes you happy, then it’s okay.” A hesitation. “Unless what you just said is sarcasm?”

It’s a way out, and Kent almost, almost takes it. “No.” God, his face feels so red. “I mean, I was being sarcastic, but I meant it.”

Tater is a little red, too, but he’s smiling again. “Color was nice. I’m not see much, but it look good on you.”

Kent is blushing so much. “Thanks.”

“Can I see?”

“See what?” See Kent in lipstick again. Oh, Jesus. “You. Want to?”

“If it’s okay.”

There might be an open socket under Kent’s ass, for how electric he feels. He makes himself stand up. “No pictures.”

Tater pulls out his phone and turns it off.

Well, then.

Kent goes back into the bathroom. He gets out the shaving kit from under the bathroom sink, the one that says “Cleaning Shit” on it and hasn’t been used for razors or soap since god knows when. There’s a black box inside _that_ , with a very limited assortment of lip products inside. Kent’s tried other makeup products—mascara, blush, eye shadow, even foundation—but none of it’s ever been as fun as lipsticks and gloss.

Kit’s the only one who’s ever seen him like this: hunched over the sink, one hand braced on the edge, nose to the mirror while he glides the silky color onto his lips. He’s trembling a bit, but the edge comes out clean. He touches it up with lip liner and adds gloss to the bottom lip to give it a pout. If he’s going to crash and burn, he’s damn well going out in style.

Walking back out into the living room feels like lining up for a full-body check.

Tater’s face looks like he just got one. “Whoa,” he breathes, and then says something else in Russian.

That reaction, more than anything else, makes Kent confident enough to sit next to Tater on the couch. Tension is still making his cheeks hot and his hands clammy. But Tater doesn’t look disgusted. It’s a good start.

“Color is _very_ nice,” Tater says. “What is name?” His eyes are glued to Kent’s mouth.

Kent thinks about the word written in curling black matte font on the side of the lipstick tube. It makes him smile at the irony. “Audacious Red.”

Tater’s still staring at his mouth. “What is mean?”

“It means reckless. Daring.”

Finally, Tater’s gaze meets his. “It fits you.”

“Thanks. Do you. Uh. Like it?”

“Yes,” Tater says without hesitation. “I’m like very much. Is pretty. And…sexy.”

Kent’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t think it’s weird.” It’s stupid to ask. Tater has already called him pretty and sexy, has been staring at him in awe since Kent walked into the room, but he has to know. “That I do this.”

“I don’t think is weird.” Tater tilts his head. “Is hobby, yes? Wear makeup?”

Kent swallows. “It’s not all makeup, just lipsticks and glosses. Sometimes tinted chapsticks. I wear chapstick all the time because of hockey, but only the clear stuff, you know? It’s… I don’t know, it’s boring. I like a little color.”

Tater’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “I like, too.”

It releases the tension he’d been holding. Lets him breathe again. He’d been so terrified, when he’d heard Tater’s voice and _known_ there was no way to hide this. But it’s okay now. It’s okay. He can breathe.

There’s one more thing, though.

“Tater, you can’t tell anybody. Ever.”

Tater nods. “Okay. I promise.”

_Now_ Kent can relax. When he does, it leaves him sitting on his couch next to his boyfriend, two days before he was expecting to be. There’s no food in the fridge, his place is a mess, and Kent still hasn’t gone out to buy condoms.

“So,” Kent says. “You’re here early.”

“Because I wanted surprise you. Sorry,” Tater says sheepishly. “I know you give me key, but I should have knock first. If you were shaving you might have cut face.”

“That would have been better, honestly.” Kent makes a face and looks around. “This is not the impression I wanted to make.”

Tater chuckles and pats his head. It’s the first contact he’s made since showing up. Kent’s scalp tingles from the brush of fingers. “I see your hotel room in Providence, remember? Is not better. I knowing what I’m get into.”

“I’m not gonna feed you if you keep this up,” Kent says. He might lean into Tater’s hand. Tater starts combing his fingers through Kent’s hair and it’s heaven.

“Oh? You have food?”

Kent makes a mental check of the contents of his kitchen. “I have two eggs, half a gallon of milk, five packs of instant ramen, and a lot of beer.”

Tater snorts. “I’m call for pizza.”

The rest of the night is shockingly normal. After the pizza arrives, Kent breaks out the beer, and they set up shop on the couch with the TV turned to ESPN. Tater puts an arm around Kent and keeps it there through five slices of pizza and two beers. They talk about inane shit and fall into silence, and then start back up again when something happens on the TV. Kent almost forgets that he’s still wearing Audacious Red.

Tater doesn’t forget. Kent sees him eyeing the lipstick stains on Kent’s beer bottles. When he cracks open a new one and puts it to his mouth, he waits until Tater’s looking at him and then waggles his eyebrows while covering the brim with his bright pink lips.

Tater waits until Kent has put the bottle down before giving him a playful shove. He’s blushing.

“Your face matches my lipstick,” Kent says, and grins when Tater shoves him again. “Guess you really do like me this way, huh?”

“I already say you are sexy, don’t fish for compliments.”

Kent goes on. “Yeah, you definitely think I’m sexy. I see you looking at the lipstick stains on my beer.” He feels his smile grow mischievous. “Want one on your dick?”

He sees that notion hit Tater like a tidal wave. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Awesome. …Wait, shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“Is okay.” A large hand falls on Kent’s shoulder. “I do. I have many.”

That sends Kent into a laughing fit. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Good.” Tater gets up and goes to dig through his bag, which is still sitting where he left it in the hallway. “I’m save for Valentine’s Day.”

That’s five months away. Tater actually thinks they’ll last that long. “Valentine’s Day is serious. I’m expecting roses, at _least_.” He hangs over the back of the couch and watches Tater unearth a box of condoms from his toiletries bag and bring it over.

Rather than sit down, however, Tater stands over him. Cautiously he lifts a hand to cup Kent’s chin, and touches Kent’s painted bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

Kent forgets how to breathe.

“Maybe,” Tater says softly. “Maybe I’m get you something else that is red.”

**Author's Note:**

> more cp and patater on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
